If I don't dance, Satan pushes me down the well into his lair.
And, if I don't sing, Death pulls me into a duality of function.
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Demons and robots, dictating their idealized personal hells from heaven’s halls,
Is as toxic a combo, as greed and apathy organizing the social relations of earth.
But, how easily Satan swirls them around his finger in a halo of noxious smoke,
Unto his engagement with Death, whom he would sacrifice a world to appease.
Let’s be honest, there’s no such thing as a poor streetcast demon,
Dramatically being possessed by ‘dark spirits’ as in a horror fiction.
But, there are everyday people working impoverished into existential crisis,
Lacking basic allotment, their minds disordered by a rolling-line calculation,
Forced to manic swaying poverty within Satan’s beastly accounting system.
For a ‘streetcast demon’ is a deception to belittle those living basic need, to conceal the dark truth;
That demons do not aimlessly wander impoverished on streets, they cluster near wealth and power.
And, these superrich demons are pleasured when everyone is panicked, anxious and desperate,
Using their influence to possess networks that propagate their crazed lifestyles upon the masses,
So they may use others at their disposal, poaching within a social environment that reflects them.
And, while these demons speed everyday people to a hurried death,
Satan ponders purity, imagining a ravishing war upon heaven’s saints,
Eagerly desiring its golden streets flow richly with the blood of divinity,
So that all earth be imprisoned within a personal hell of self-idolization.
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